


Little Boy Blue

by scratchienails



Series: NOC NOC, Who's There? [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Black Org as Good Guys, Dark Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan, Dimension Travel, Evil Twins, Gen, Kidnapping, Mirror Universe, alternate dimension hijinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: The sequence of events was easily established: After apprehending the killer targeting policewomen, Detective Chiba rushed Officer Miike to the hospital. At that point in time, Edogawa Conan had been with them. Shortly afterward, Edogawa answered a call on Officer Miike’s phone and spoke with Officer Miyamoto, when he was overheard speaking with an unidentified man.Edogawa Conan did not return home that night.But he did the following morning, and that was when the real trouble started.akaShinichi always knew he was his own worst enemy, but it was supposed to be metaphorical. Not whatever alternate dimension bullshit this was.
Relationships: Akai Shuuichi | Okiya Subaru & Amuro Tooru | Furuya Rei & Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan
Series: NOC NOC, Who's There? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563649
Comments: 11
Kudos: 151





	Little Boy Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm starting another short chapter, not quite crack fic. No, this won't interfere with the other fics. This is just for fun, so updates will be quick and short, and as things progress, I'm very open to ideas. In the meantime, we're gonna start nice and slow...

He didn’t really consider himself a bitter person. 

His current circumstances weren’t easy to bear, truthfully; since his shrinkage, he’d experienced so many sour things he’d thought he rose above: condescension, frustration, humiliation, failure. 

It had been humbling, and terrifying, and heart-rending. Left him isolated and scared like he’d never been before, with so much fear and uncertainties to carry on shoulders that were suddenly too small.

But it got easier, like all things do, over time. He’d grown used to the manhandling, the teasing, and the affection. He could grin when someone patted his head or rustled his hair and it wasn’t even entirely fake. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with his young friends, even if he groaned and dragged his feet at first. He liked how much everyone else seemed to _like_ him.

And he liked being underestimated, overlooked, disregarded, which was something he never even expected of himself. There was security in it, and freedom too, from the expectations he’d never realized were so heavy before.

Shinichi wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.

“Conan” had saved his life.

It could have been worse. 

At the very least, Shinichi had been turned into a child in Japan, not some other country where children going unattended were less common. Life would be hell if he couldn’t go _anywhere_ by himself. 

But being left on the street by two police officers after assisting with the apprehension of a serial killer was new. And probably pushing the limits of acceptable leniency. Chiba was in a frenzy to get his bleeding, freshly recognized first love to the hospital, leaving Conan at the crosswalk with Yumi on the line. 

What exactly was he supposed to tell the traffic officer? That a serial killer had kidnapped and attempted to murder her partner while she’d been asleep, and Conan had tagged along for the ride? That her partner was being taken to the hospital, while a six year-old wandered the street with said partner’s phone well past 8 pm?

How did he spin this?

He’d told Ran he was staying at the Professor’s house, but it was already late, and he should have been there probably a while ago. Ran was lenient with him these days, used to Conan’s truly bizarre hours, but there was a point when even he got a lecture for staying out too late and sticking his nose in something a bit too dangerous. And if this whole ordeal got back to her, he was _so_ grounded.

Yumi at least asked less questions than most officers would. As the call neared its end with her huffing that someone would be coming out to pick him up, Conan felt an odd prickling on the back of his neck.

Someone was behind him.

Conan froze in place, phone still pressed to his ear, as every nerve in his body seemed to come alive. He knew this feeling, this rush of contained panic, this sense of immediate danger. 

_Them._

“There you are.”

The voice and words registered, and it took a moment to rectify them in his head with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’d know that deep drawl anywhere, because he shouldn’t hear it _anywhere_.

Conan turned very slowly around. 

Barely illuminated by the street-lights, a man stood on the sidewalk: tall, dark, and chiseled. Leather jacket, black knit cap, and the sharpest cheekbones of anyone Conan or Shinichi had ever met.

“Akai-san?”

The name came out a little disbelieving, half gasp, half reproach, as he took the man’s measure. Even the details Vermouth had struggled to replicate were on point, and there wasn’t even a hint of scarring on the man’s face. A lit cigarette hung from the man’s lips, which he pulled away from his mouth with his left-hand casually, no sign of someone struggling to use their non-dominant hand. 

But for all the details right, there was something else _wrong_.

Akai wasn’t supposed to be wandering around without his disguise. It risked blowing their entire charade out of the water. And while Conan himself had taken some risks, resurrecting Shinichi for a brief little while, Akai was usually far more cautious than he was. 

And he’d been trying to quit smoking. At the very least, he hardly ever did it around Conan anymore, not after Conan had been citing health statistics and tenant etiquette and how “Okiya” would never be the type to leave his landlord’s house reeking of smoke. 

Akai had pointed out that _that_ was pretty convenient, seeing as Conan had practically invented “Okiya Subaru” himself, but nevertheless cut back.

But here Akai was, like the Friday the Thirteenth that marked his supposed death never happened, like he still spent his nights lurking in the shadows of alleys, monitoring Conan and lying in wait. 

“ _Conan-kun?”_ Forgotten, Yumi called over the phone, and Conan hurriedly turned his attention back.

“Ah, sorry, Yumi-san, I’ve got a ride now. Sorry for troubling you.” 

Yumi made a surprised sound. “Eh? Hold on, Conan-kun—” 

Conan cut her off as he flipped the phone shut. “I have to go, Yumi-san. Good night!” 

Akai was waiting patiently, and Conan took another moment to just _watch._

Was this really Akai, or someone else is a disguise? Why? 

There were few people that knew he had any connection to Akai at all: Bourbon, Vermouth and the FBI. Bourbon and Vermouth had put on Akai’s face before, but what reason would they have to do so now, and in front of him? 

Or did the order come from higher up?

Or was this really just Akai, and Conan was being paranoid?

“All finished?” Akai asked, seeming utterly relaxed. Though Conan felt anxious, there was nothing threatening in Akai’s manner, or his stance. It was a bit like it used to be with Bourbon: knowing the man was a _threat,_ in the general sense, but never experiencing it specifically. Like the man was dangerous, but not to him.

What was Conan supposed to say? How was he supposed to act?

On the spot, he defaulted to Conan’s simple, childish curiosity; soft smile and big eyes and all. “What are you doing here?”

He really wanted to ask the question a lot more aggressively, but if this was an imposter, the worst thing he could do would be to let on that he suspected it too early.

The problem with that was, well...

The mannerisms were _right,_ they were on point. So many people bent down or kneeled to interact with Conan, even Amuro, but Akai never did unless indicated to. And he spoke to Conan very directly, not like most would to a child. 

The situation was wrong, but Akai _wasn’t._

Akai took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke into the cold evening air. “We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

Conan found himself tensing again, and forced his shoulders back down. An emergency would explain it: Akai’s odd appearance, the strange tension in the air, the sense of unease prickling his skin. 

“What happened? Is everything alright?” Had something happened to Haibara? The Professor? Kir? The FBI? The house?

Just the thought had chills spilling down his spine, a thousand worst-case scenarios unfolding in his head in perfect, excruciating detail.

“I’ll explain in the car.”

Was he being followed? 

Conan was suddenly just as hyper-aware of their surroundings as he was of Akai himself. The street was almost entirely deserted, and every shadow looked a little too dark. He stuck close to Akai as the man led him away from the hospital, prepared for anything. Akai's outward calm meant nothing. The man had faced down the barrel of a gun with nothing more than an elaborate plan and Conan's word that it would _work_ and smiled with nothing but confidence. Nothing could shake the man, not even the worst. 

The vehicle Akai led him to was actually a black truck, the kind Akai always preferred: big, stable, and practical. But Akai didn’t drive trucks anymore, since his Chevy had _exploded_ ; what remained of it was taken as evidence, after what happened at the pass. In the aftermath, they had got him a cheap Subaru, and a much less cheap Mustang.

Things had to be bad if Akai had commandeering a vehicle. 

“Is Haibara okay, at least?” 

Akai said nothing, and Conan’s heart lurched in his chest. He scrambled into the truck’s passenger seat with minimum assistance, feeling almost ill. 

If that question didn’t have an easy answer… 

He wanted to call her, or the Professor. Or Ran, but unease stilled his hands. Distantly, he realized he still had Miike's phone, meaning he had three on hand, and four if he counted his badge. At the very least, he wasn't short on modes of communication, whatever was going on. A phone was a powerful tool, as he himself had proved before, and he felt a little more prepared with so many on hand. At the very least, if he got in a bad position, he could drop one and no one would likely even notice. 

Akai was quiet as he drove them, but that wasn’t unusual. Getting information out of him was often like pulling teeth: it took expertise, patience, and a fair amount of brute force. But it was not long before Conan realized they were heading out of Beika, not further in.

It was not comforting.

The doors were locked. Child locked. The windows too.

All bad signs that point at one thing: he'd miscalculated.

Conan peered through the shadows of the car, catching glimpses with the lights that flashed by, he found he didn’t like the smile pulling at the lips of the man that wasn't Akai at all.


End file.
